


Best Laid Plans (Or: How to Tell Your Wife You're Not Her Husband in 6 Easy Steps)

by wierdrocks



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Guns, Married Couple, One Shot, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wierdrocks/pseuds/wierdrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thinking about it all day had been making him sick. By the time the family was cleaning up after dinner he had almost talked himself out of it. It had never been a part of the plan to tell her. To tell any of them.</p>
<p>Well.</p>
<p>It had had never been the plan to fall in love with her either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid Plans (Or: How to Tell Your Wife You're Not Her Husband in 6 Easy Steps)

**Author's Note:**

> Because the plot bunnies have more control over my life than I do.

Roger Warwick kissed his children goodnight, dimmed the lights in the house, and checked on the turrets via that nice terminal Caleb had set up. They'd first met Caleb after the Atom Cats sent him with parts to fix their irrigation system. The Atom Cats were nice kids, if a bit strange, and Caleb was a nice man. It was odd, seeing someone in a pastor's robes (bullet proof pastor's robes) marching up to their homestead with machine parts under his arm and a gun on his belt. But the man was nice. He was good with the kids, even if talking to them seemed to make him sad, and he helped out around the farm after fixing the pump. June had loaded him down with mirelurk cakes when he left. She'd tried to pay him too, but he had very staunchly refused. 

And then, a few weeks later, Caleb had returned. He'd asked for a formal tour of the homestead and then... and then he'd given Roger the Institute passphrase. The one regarding his latest shipment of seeds to test in the fertile soil of the Warwick homestead. Because Caleb worked for the the Institute.  
Roger had gone cold. It made no sense for him to be afraid of someone from the Institute. He was from the Institute! They had made him. But we was afraid anyway. He was afraid for June and Janey and Wally. He was afraid this stranger would blow his cover, not because the project he'd been tasked with protecting with his life would be in danger, but because they would be in danger. His family.

Well.

The family that he'd infiltrated. The family that he'd stolen.

Roger told Caleb about Bill. An old friend of the family. The one variable his training hadn't completely prepared him for. Paranoid, vindictive Bill who had noticed the change in his friend's personality right away. When he'd become kinder and softer and more open to help from people like the Atom Cats or their stranger, Bill had gotten suspicious. That was not the Roger Warwick he knew and he would not stand idly by and allow a synth to replace someone in his life.

When Bill had finally confronted Roger, Caleb was there, weeks after he'd first appeared at their farm. Janey and Wally were scared. Janey didn't understand why Uncle Bill would point a gun after her daddy. June was angry and confused. She screamed at Bill to put the gun down and leave her home. Caleb was calm. He stepped forward, unarmed, and talked Bill down. His voice was even and soothing. He defended Roger's humanity and convinced Bill that though he had changed in the past few months, that didn't mean thay he was a replacement. It only meant that he'd seen the error in his previous ways. Bill put his gun down and apologized. Caleb escorted him off the property and that was the last they'd heard if either of them for weeks.  
Roger hoped they had just walked to the next settlement, maybe the Garage, and had a breather. He hoped Bill would return in the next few days with old silk flowers for June and toys for the kids and a couple bottles of Roger's favorite Gwinnett. Peace offerings and apologies. They'd sit down and have dinner together like old times and everything would be fine. Roger knew in the back of his head that if Caleb really was an agent of the Institute, he'd taken Bill to a place where no one would find the body and cut him down where he stood. He almost heaved when he thought about it.

Roger Warwick kissed his children goodnight, dimmed the lights in the house, and checked on the turrets via that nice terminal Caleb had set up. He laid down next to his wife and stared at the metal ceiling of their bedroom. June curled around him and kissed his cheek.  
"Goodnight, honey." She whispered. It hadn't always been like this. In the early days after his assignment, she had laid there stiffly, hadn't spoken to him past lights out. He hadn't understood. He'd been told (been trained) that Mr. and Mrs. Warwick loved each other. Why wouldn't they kiss each other good night or whisper "I love you"s in bed?  
"June." He said quietly.  
"Hm?" She didn't lift her head.  
"I need," He took a deep breath. She slid a hand slowly across his chest and he could feel her smile in his ribs.  
"What'd you need, babe?" She asked coyly, cuddling closer to him. He'd never expected to enjoy sex. The doctors had explained what sex was and told him that married couples partook in it and that he would be expected to perform this task with June. But he had been loathing his first experience with it. It just seemed so... gross? It wasn't technically possible for a synth to be disgusted. The proper reaction to things like decay or feces had to be trained. But Roger was disgusted by the idea of sex. The smells, the sounds, the fluids.  
When it first happened with June, he had been stationed at the homestead for nearly a month. Before that, he hadn't propositioned her and she hadn't brought it up. He'd been thankful. But before that day, he found himself growing fond of June. She was kind and gentle and loving. She cared for her children and husband fiercely and she was a very hard worker. All of these things made her extremely... attractive. Technically, synths aren't supposed to be able to feel attraction. He'd been trained in how to act around "his" wife. How to kiss and caress and cuddle. He didn’t feel particularly prepared for when she lay across his lap one afternoon and kissed him slow and deep and whispered “I need you.”  
“Tell me what you need.” She said against his neck and he shifted uncomfortably.  
“No, Love. That’s not what I meant.” He tried to force a laugh. “I need to talk to you.” He turned on his side so they were facing each other, knees bumping, arms on each other’s waists, noses a breath apart.  
“About what?” She smiled. Her smile was so beautiful. Technically, synths could only approximate an appreciation for beauty. They could appear to be in awe of their wife’s smile, but couldn’t actually feel the fluttering the heart or swelling of emotions that came with seeing it.  
“I love you.” He said and brought her close, pressing his torso flush against hers. She wrapped her arms around him.  
“I love you too.” She said, sounding worried. “What’s wrong, Rodg?”  
“I,” His breath caught in his throat. “I need to tell you something, but I’m afraid.”  
“Afraid of what?” She asked, nuzzling her face against him. He pulled back so they could look each other in the eye, his entire line of vision filled with just her eyes and nose, bits of her auburn-brown hair falling across her forehead. He took a deep breath.  
“Please, June… I love you. Please don’t hate me.” He choked out. There was a pause. She pulled away from him and he felt as if he’d been run into by a dozen super mutants. He watched in abject horror as she sat up and turned to face away from him, scooting to the end of their bed and putting her feet on the floor, hands in her lap. 

There was another pause. 

“June please.” He whispered, his voice shaking. He got off the bed and down on his knees in front of her. This had been a bad idea! Telling her was never part of the plan!  
“What’s her name?” June asked, not looking at him. He opened his mouth to reply and shut it again, startled. His first instinct was to tell her the truth. There wasn’t another woman. Nothing extreme like that. He was just one of the monsters that everyone in the Commonwealth feared.  
His second instinct was to make up a woman. Yes, he’d cheated on her and he deeply regretted it. It only happened once. And maybe it wasn’t even sex. (He couldn’t imagine making love to anyone but June, even an imaginary woman made up to cover his lies). Yes. He’d kissed another woman on impulse and that was wrong of him. Brilliant. Perfect. A good plan.  
“I’m not having an affair.” You fool!  
She looked at him, eyes wet with tears.  
“Oh, Junebug.” He sat up on his knees and took her face in his rough hands. Tears spilled down her cheeks and he mopped them away with his thumbs. She put her hands on his wrists.  
“Oh.” She said, and laughed a broken, relieved laugh. “Oh, Rodg, I got so scared for a moment.” She leaned into one of his hands. “What… what was it you actually had to tell me?” She smiled. He kissed her, slow and deep, the two of them leaning into one another, hands touching faces, arms, shoulders. When they pulled apart again he stayed on his knees, leaned back with his hands in his lap. She waited patiently for him, wiping away the last of her tears.  
“I’m a synth.”

There was a long pause. 

He thought she might scream. Oh no. if she screamed she’d wake up the children. If she woke up the children… if they were afraid of him, he’d leave. He’s take his pistol and clothes and go… no. the institute would be back. If he was gone when they sent another agent, they’d kill them. They’d kill his family. “His” family.  
“June.” He said quietly, reaching out to touch her. She flinched away.  
“Stay away from me.” And she lunged for the ten millimeter they kept on the bedside table. She pointed it square at his chest and he fell back, making himself small as he knelt in front of her. Slowly, he put his hands behind his head, eyes focused on the ground. He wouldn’t let her shoot him. No matter how much she deserved to kill the man who’d been impersonating her husband for close to a year, he couldn’t let her shoot him. The Institute would kill her and her children and set up the experiment again, maybe with a different family, maybe with disguised synths. He couldn’t let her shoot him.  
“I’m not here to hurt you, June.” He said. “I would never hurt you.”  
“What’d you want from us?” She demanded. “Where is my husband!?” He flinched. The real Roger Warwick had been tortured to death months ago.  
“He’s dead.” He said quietly. “I’m sorry.” The butt of her gun landed square in the middle of his head. It wasn’t nearly enough to knock him out or injure him, and it hadn’t even really hurt that much, but he fell onto his side anyway. He stayed there on the floor as she paced back and forth.  
“Oh god, oh god.” She sobbed into her hand. “Roger… the kids.” He heard her begin to walk away and readied himself to stop her. She couldn’t leave. The Institute would know he was compromised and send a courser out to find them. He heard her walk back to him and stop.  
“I know you’re awake!” She said sternly and he heard her gun cock. He sat up slowly, turning to face her, hand in the air, head down. “What. Do you want. From us.” She demanded.  
“The Institute sent me to experiment with new seeds they were producing, gourds and melons that could grow in irradiated soil and not have any radiation actually in them. That’s what we’ve got growing in the fields right now, June. It could save lives.” Of course, that isn’t really what the Institute had planned for it. They were only interested in the new crops to eventually spread their own population above ground. But he wasn’t supposed to know that. Technically, synths aren’t programmed to eaves drop.

There was another pause.

“Why?” She asked after a while and he looked up, just for a moment. She’d lowered the gun but was still glaring at him like murderous monster he was.  
“The soil here.” He said. “It really is the most fertile in the entire Commonwealth. Institute scientists couldn’t recreate the conditions we have here if they tried. And they tried, June.” He lowered his eyes again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”  
“What?” Her voice was softer, lower.  
“I’m sorry about your husband, about the real Roger. I understand if you hate me. But you have to understand, the Ins—”  
“September.” She said. It was April.  
“June?”  
“September.” She repeated and he heard her move, heard her lower herself to the floor in front of him. He looked up, still hunched, hands still up above his head. Synth stamina. She was looking at him, head slightly tilted to one side, brow furrowed, gun in her lap. “September was the last time you hit me.” She said. His mouth fell open. True, his assignment had begun in the middle of September the previous year, and true, he’d learned in his training that Roger Warwick was a violent, angry man… but he’d thought... against enemies, surely. Against strangers and the occasional caravan worker… not his own wife. Not beautiful, kind, loving June.  
“What?” He whispered.  
“But that wasn’t him, was it?” She asked, voice shaking. “That wasn’t him who had a change of heart or who fell in love with me again. That was you. That was you replacing him.”  
“He hit you?” He whispered again, none of the shock and disbelief and… and anger he was feeling was replicated or synthetic. How dare this man strike his wife! How dare he hurt someone so good and lovely?! And here he’d been feeling guilty over his death! Here he’d been, admonishing himself for replacing this man and stealing his family when his family did not deserve to be living with such a monster!  
“And you haven’t yelled at Wally about bein’ a man.” She choked out, tears staining her cheeks once more. He’s eleven! And actually quite responsible for someone that age and a very smart boy.  
“And you haven’t asked Janey about when she’s findin’ a husband,” He was fairly certain that the Warwick daughter was gay. (Or at least, she only responding to flirting from female visitors to the homestead. One caravan guard in particular.) And besides that, she could get married or not get married in her own time for the Wall’s sake. What was wrong with this man????? He was sitting up not, hands lowering a bit more every time he found a new reason to hate the old Roger Warwick.  
“You stopped drinking.” Well, that had just been a part of the plan. He couldn’t collect the data the Institute needed while intoxicated.  
“I thought you’d turned over a new leaf, but,” Her shoulders fell. “But none of that was even you. You’re a completely different person.”  
“I would never heard you, June.” He breathed, hands in his lap, back straight. “I love you. I love our children, and I would never hurt any of you.” He leaned forward slowly, reaching out to her. Her hand was still on the gun.


End file.
